


Freudian Slip

by CerasiJ



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: But not really accidental tbh, Confessions of love, Did I mention this was complete fluff?, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, No beta I'll die like a man, Rose sounds a little like Wikipedia, Sadie Hawkins ftw, The Doctor has all the feels, accidental Marriage Proposal, but just a smidge - Freeform, complete fluff, consider yourself warned, maybe a little bit of angst, my bad - Freeform, tiny bit of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 23:16:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21400261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CerasiJ/pseuds/CerasiJ
Summary: freud·i·an slip(Noun)An unintentional error regarded as revealing subconscious feelings.Or: The one where Rose accidentally proposes.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler
Comments: 18
Kudos: 127





	Freudian Slip

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Doctor Who or anything recognizable... you know the drill.

_freud·i·an slip_

(Noun)

An unintentional error regarded as revealing subconscious feelings.

———

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew things between them would never be the same again. 

Rose was staring at him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly agape and he was painfully aware of the blood thundering in his ears, in time with his heartsbeat and rushing toward the surface of his skin until it seemed that even his hair was on fire. He surreptitiously raised a hand, fingertips grazing his cheek, confirming what his hot skin already told him… _Blushing. _Him! The Doctor, the Oncoming Storm, the Last of the Time Lords, blushing from _embarrassment_.

He had to fix this bizarre situation he’d just landed them in. Damn this overactive gob! He opened his mouth to explain, to attempt to salvage the moment and his friendship with Rose. 

“I-I-I mean-…” He stuttered, “that is to say, we’re not-…” 

But the jovial Emperor whom they’d pulled from a carriage fire earlier that afternoon waved his hand dismissively, paying no heed to the obvious discomfort of either of his guests, “A great, great pleasure to meet you both! Please allow my steward to show you to your quarters and you may freshen up before the feast!”

The Doctor opened his mouth again, prepared to protest, when the Emperor cut across him, “I can already hear your decline, Doctor, but I must insist! My Empress is eager to meet the two who saved her husband.”

“We’d be honored to meet your Empress and join you for the feast,” Rose replied diplomatically, arching her eyebrows at the Doctor significantly. “Wouldn’t we, Doctor?”

“Yep,” he squeaked, not meeting her eyes.

The Emperor laughed joyfully, the laugh of one who’d just had a close brush with death. “Excellent! Dinner and dancing tonight! I won’t take no for an answer. Now, Bartholomew will show you to your quarters.” He spun away, singing loudly to himself, slightly singed robes swirling around his ankles as he headed deeper into the opulent palace. 

The steward appeared next to Rose, bowed slightly and gestured at a hallway to their right, “My Lady, My Lord, if you’ll follow me?”

Rose followed the steward without question. The Doctor hesitated, considering for a brief moment just fleeing back to the TARDIS and hiding within the labyrinth of rooms for the next eighty years or so.

He drew a deep breath and shook his head, trying to get a handle on the flood of emotions. _No_. He was a Time Lord. He would face this like a man, and talk to Rose like a grown-up. He could easily explain it away as part of the custom here, smooth over his slip with the assertion that it would be easier for them this way. Less likely to be separated and thrown into jail.

Couldn’t he?

The Doctor bit back a curse when he recalled how effortlessly the word had rolled off his tongue. How _right_ it felt, how it lit him up from the inside and filled him with excitement and longing and terror-…

With a sigh, he shoved the thoughts away, turned on his heel and followed Rose down the corridor to the room. Even walking at half his normal pace he seemed to catch up to Rose and their steward far too quickly for his liking. He trailed into the room as the steward bowed them in and stopped short just over the threshold, his eyes wide. His hand found the knot of his tie and he loosened it in an attempt to regain his breath. _Bloody hell_.

_Their_ room. 

Singular. 

“Blimey,” Rose breathed from the center of the room, spinning around in a circle, “This is beautiful.”

The door behind him closed with a _snick_ and with a start, the Doctor realized that it was only the two of them in the room. He turned his attention back to their accommodations. Warm, off-white stone and dark, hand-carved wood furniture stood in contrast, giving off the air of a medieval castle one would find in Earth fairy tails. The room was undeniably… _romantic_, which he supposed was the point of the whole thing. 

A wrought iron chandelier hanging from the arched ceiling cast a soft yellow glow into the dark corners; two cozy looking arm chairs flanked a squat table in front of a small, crackling fireplace. But it was the lavish four-poster canopy bed towering right in the center of the room that took most of the Doctor’s attention. Soft yellow curtains and linens draped over the same rich wood, and the mattress seemed to go on for miles. Even at this distance, the Doctor could see the craftsmanship was impeccable.

_Probably wouldn’t squeak a bit_, he thought lasciviously as a bolt of white-hot lust shot through him. A quick shake of his head attempted to stave off the thought of Rose’s lithe body wrapped around him in the bed that now taunted him from the middle of the room. He cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his suddenly too-tight Oxford.

Rose completed her brief tour of the room and turned as soon as the door was shut. She quirked an eyebrow at him, the hint of a smile on her face and hands on her hips in a fashion that was terrifyingly reminiscent of her mother. Not a single word was spoken, but instantly his face felt hot again. He was thankful she didn’t share his telepathic abilities just then, so she couldn’t catch on to his previous train of thought. 

The soft tapping of Rose’s foot accentuated the elephant lurking in the room. The Doctor swallowed thickly and wished for nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow him, or perhaps at this point, he would just spontaneously regenerate from sheer humiliation. Rose was now staring pointedly and hummed a non-verbal question at him.

His eyes couldn’t quite meet hers as he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, cutting directly to the chase, “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“No?” Her other eyebrow joined its twin near her hairline.

“No,” he confirmed, eyes darting anywhere but her face as he reached up to tug nervously at his ear. “Um… I’m sorry. I…”

Rose made a noise of annoyance, throwing her hands in the air as she turned away from him in quiet frustration. “You know I don’t mind, Doctor.” She crossed the room and flopped back on the plush bed with a sigh. “Oh, this is gorgeous!”

He quickly looked away, angling his eyes to the floor. His emotions were still too close to the surface to even think the words _Rose _and _bed_ in the same sentence. He shifted uncomfortably, thankful he was still wearing his brown trench coat. 

Rose continued, “I mean, if we’re undercover, or that’s a social rule here, you shoulda said so before we left the TARDIS. I coulda dressed nicer.” She motioned to her soot-stained blue jeans, and the Doctor could only gape at her.

“Are we… are we talking about the same thing?” He asked, motioning rapidly between the two of them, his voice uncharacteristically high.

She raised her head from her sprawled position on the bed and looked at him with sparkling eyes. A grin appeared as she spouted off in a perfect imitation of his soft Estuary accent,_ “Ah, yes, hello! I’m the Doctor, and this is my wife, Rose Tyler.”_

Instantly, he flushed a deep crimson again, even as she let out a small giggle. “What are you on about?” Rose said through a tongue-touched smile, “What made you say that? Are we undercover?”

His face practically glowing, the Doctor stuttered, “No. Not undercover.”

She sat up slowly, smiling at him, “Oh, so… not undercover then…” 

The Doctor knew she was trying to give him an out… trying to let him ease out of this awkward situation by plying her with the very excuses he’d already been contemplating. Silence stole over them and he drifted further into the room, drawn like a magnet to the playful glint in her hazel eyes.

It’d been like this since the day he regenerated, he mused. He’d died and been reborn with one single thought echoing through his mind: Rose Tyler. The first time he had the chance to look at his new, new body in the mirror, he wasn’t the least bit surprised at what he saw. Younger, slightly taller, handsome… someone that looked like he belonged next to her. His eyes had taken the same brown hue, his voice had taken her accent.

As the Doctor looked at her, he wondered… let himself dream for just a moment. She was his everything. Why not his wife, too?

Memories of Rose’s hand in his and her smile as they overlooked a frozen ocean as she promised him “Forever” bombarded him. He thought of her bare feet in his lap as they sat in the library after a long day of running, the look of relief on her face anytime he had to rescue her—and the look of slight smugness when she had to rescue him.

Fantasies twined themselves in with memories. Rose against a tropical sunset, wearing a white dress with a ring sparkling on her finger; her blonde hair spread out on his pillow as they made love. The small, delicate hand of an infant clutching her finger as she gazed lovingly at him. 

Is that what he wanted? Rose as his permanent companion, his lover, his best friend, his plus-one? She would be the one he always woke up next to. The one he would give up all his remaining regenerations for. The one to share a pot of tea with, laugh with, fight with, cry with. Someone to share his burdens and his triumphs, his joy and his pain…

_His pain_.

Who would share his pain when she was gone? When she succumbed to the inevitability of time and human fragility? How could he even consider carrying on then? He sucked in a sharp breath, jolted violently back into reality at this thought.

The Doctor eyed Rose, now sitting cross-legged on the bed, her elbow on her knee, chin propped in her open palm. She was wearing the slight smirk she usually did when she knew his thoughts were a million miles away; her honey eyes wide and sparkling with good humor.

_Beautiful. _

_Yes._ He realized with a start, his mouth too dry and his palms too wet. _Rassilon,_ _yes!_ He wanted her in every way possible, for however long he could have her. 

“So!” Rose sassed loudly, completely oblivious to his epiphany, “Welcome back. Not undercover and not part of the local custom. Care to explain to me why I’m your missus this trip?”

The thundering of his hearts added to his other discomforts. He stared at her. Straight and to the point, that was his Rose. He licked his lips, trembling hand finally dropping away from his ear to find refuge in his coat pocket. He could be straight and to the point as well, couldn’t he? 

He fought for a moment to get the words out. “It was… well. A… uh, well. A parapraxis?”

“I see,” Rose said with a bob of her head. She returned his stare for a long moment before she tucked her hair behind her ears and hopped off the bed. He only noticed then that she was wearing new, flat trainers like his own. She was now the perfect height for him to rest his chin on the top of her head.

Lost in this thought, the Doctor almost missed the way she prowled toward him, a slight smile curving her lips and he found he couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

Enchanted, bewitched, spellbound, he could only stand there, rooted to the spot as she placed her palms in the middle of his chest, sliding them up until she’d grasped the lapels of his coat. The Doctor was quite sure he’d made an undignified noise of slight protest as she drew him into her personal space, but he then found that he couldn’t really be bothered to give a damn about it.

Rose held his gaze as she slipped her fingers into his suit coat pocket, withdrew his glasses and slid them on. When the bridge of the glasses touched the bridge of her nose, he couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped him.

“Did you know,” she started, continuing her spot-on impersonation of his accent, “that Freud didn’t actually coin the phrase ‘Freudian slip’? And that such speech errors are usually the result of a subdued wish or unconscious thoughts?” 

He gaped at her, feeling called out and overexposed. Had all his thoughts been written on his forehead? “Wha-… what?”

“Mm-hmm,” Rose said with a self-assured nod. She looked up at him through the square frames of his reading glasses and continued, “Did you also know that Freudian slips may be due to the existence of the recent activation of emotions, or a strong emotional change?” 

Rose winked at him, her tongue between her teeth and now he was really, _really_ glad for the length of his coat. 

“Who are you and what have you done with Rose?” The Doctor asked breathlessly.

She laughed, slipping off his glasses. “Are you serious? After the whole ‘always take a banana to a party’ routine, I read Freud’s _The Interpretation of Dreams_. The TARDIS recommended it.” As she tucked the glasses back into his pocket, her smile turned slightly predatory, eyes never leaving his. “So, tell me about this Freudian slip, Doctor. Do you have a subdued wish to be married to me?” 

Time seemed to crawl to a halt—he wasn’t sure if it was his own doing or just his perception of one of the most important moments of his very long life. Several things happened at once: his already thundering pulse rocketed up again; the bone and tissue that made up his knees turned to jelly, and there was apparently an iron band around his lungs… drawing a breath was nearly impossible.

Even before his regeneration, the Doctor had tried for over a year to hide his longing stares, to tamp down the untoward thoughts, to pretend Rose was only his friend, his little sister, anything… _anything_ that would keep him from saying something stupid like _I love you!_ Or _Will you shut up so I can snog you already?!_

It was as if Rose had heard every single one of his thoughts since he’d entered the room, and narrowed her insight into one question that undid him completely.

He clenched his trembling hands into fists, shoving them deep into his pockets. His thoughts felt thick and syrupy, and he struggled to form a coherent sentence. Finally—_finally—_he managed to get enough air into his lungs. He had no idea where the words came from. 

He licked his lips, his voice still pitched high. “Are you… are you _asking_, Rose Tyler?”

Rose looked up at him with a laugh, “Yes, I’m asking. Do you want to be married to me?”

Jubilation exploded through him like lightning, so quick and visceral that even his bones felt the tingle of electricity. It radiated from every cell, every nerve ending, every single inch of him. A glowing, honied warmth poured through his chest until his fingers tingled. The Doctor’s sharp inhale was involuntary, as was the dampness in his bright, brown eyes.

Leaping into action, he fumbled to pull his numb hands out of his pockets as he reached for her, capturing her hand, interlacing their fingers and pulling Rose into his chest. One hand cradled the back of her head, his thumb brushing the shell of her ear as he tilted her face up to hold her gaze.

“Yes!” A slightly manic grin split his face as he took her in. “Rose, yes, you have no idea-… how long I’ve-…”

His sentence tapered to a stuttering end as the beaming smile melted off her face, leaving behind a furrowed brow and wide eyes as she processed the change in conversation. Now it was Rose’s turn to stare blankly at him as she fumbled for words. “Wait… What?” She breathed, “What-…?”

The heavy silence that engulfed them was stifling.

Rose blinked again, her mouth open in stunned disbelief. “Doctor, I-…”

_Oh…_ The Doctor realized, as a chilling numbness crept through him. _Oh… no…_

“I…” Rose started.

He swallowed thickly, eyes darting around her face. Words were cumbersome again, but for a different reason this time. “Were you… not just proposing to me?”

“I’m… are you _joking?_” She squeaked, eyes so wide it would have been comical under other circumstances.

“Are _you?_” He countered, hearts pounding double time.

“No? I mean-… yes?” Confusion painted her features with a pinched expression.

Icy reality lanced through him, stealing the air from his lungs and the Doctor staggered backward, devastated, attempting to untangle their fingers and withdraw his shaking hands from Rose’s. 

“Right,” he stuttered. “Yes. Okay.”

He shoved his hands into his hair just to have something to do with them and he turned away from Rose’s astonished visage, his chest heaving. If she had ripped open his ribcage and tore out his hearts, he somehow thought it would hurt less than the searing pain and humiliation of her rejection. The emotional whiplash of the last several minutes immediately caught up with him; he could feel the exact second that his warm tears of joy became cold tears of sorrow, but he stubbornly refused to let any of them fall. As deeply as the Doctor ached, he didn’t want to burden Rose with his feelings if they weren’t returned. 

“Doctor-…”

Even with his back still to Rose, he scrambled to cut her off, desperate to shove down the disappointment. “No, you’re-… yes. Of course. Okay. Right.”

“_Doctor-…!”_

The Doctor motioned to the door as he began to stride toward it, mumbling, “I’ll just-…” He hadn’t made it three full steps before Rose was on him. 

“No, no, no!” She cried as she lunged forward and grabbed the back of his coat, suddenly terrified that he was going to race to the TARDIS and never look back.

He yelped in surprise, caught off balance as she tried to pull him back toward her. The flat sole of his red Chuck slipped on the smooth stone floor and the Doctor tumbled backward into Rose’s chest. They collapsed in the middle of the bedroom floor in a heap of flailing limbs and muffled curses.

The Doctor had somehow managed to get tangled in his own coat, which gave Rose a moment of opportunity. Scrambling, she got her arms and legs unraveled first and used the advantage to straddle him. He froze beneath her, suddenly pinned by her weight across his chest, her knees close to his armpits. Her hands gripped his wrists tightly, his arms forced above his head. He wanted to groan in frustration. The bloody coat didn’t matter now because _she was sitting on him_.

“No,” Rose panted, squeezing his wrists. Her face was startlingly close to his own, “No runnin’ away. Talk to me.”

He childishly turned his head, not willing to let her see how she’d gutted him with just a few words. “Nothing to say,” he snapped, trying to use anger to cover his hurt. He half-heartedly tried to pull his wrists away from her, but she held on tightly, her nails biting into his skin.

“Don’t gimme that,” Rose snapped back, releasing one wrist to grasp his chin. Gently, she turned his head, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Talk to me. Let’s work through this. What the bloody hell just happened?”

“A Freudian slip,” he mumbled petulantly, focusing his gaze just over her right shoulder.

She closed her eyes, her head dropping toward her chest and she heaved a sigh. It was a very human expression that clearly translated into something like, _Lord, give me strength._

“Doctor…” She growled. 

He took a breath, trying to hold on to the single spark of anger he’d managed to kick up. But it was no use. His body went limp beneath hers and Rose’s eyes widened. The fight left him and his eyes were suddenly glassy. The Doctor’s mouth worked open a couple of times before he croaked, “I thought…”

“Thought what?” Rose whispered, hope sparking through her veins.

The Doctor made a noise that could have been a laugh or a sob, and he resolutely stared at the arching ceiling above them. “I thought you… were asking me to marry you.” A sad smile teased at the corners of his lips as a single tear skittered down his temple. “Very Sadie Hawkins, that.”

She gaped at him, eyes wide, stunned into silence. Neither of them moved for a long moment and he made no effort to look at her. Rose shook her head slightly to clear the cobwebs as something clicked within her, “Wait, were you _accepting_?”

His eyes snapped to hers finally and he stared at her like she’d just dribbled on _both _their shirts. “Of course I was accepting!” He yipped indignantly.

Rose’s gaze never faltered as she challenged him, “Why?”

The Doctor stumbled, eyes darting again, “Why? Well… Does… does it need saying?”

Her patience snapped and she moved her hands from his wrists to his shoulders, giving him a firm shake. “Yes!” She cried, “Yes, you idiot, it bloody well needs saying! People don’t just accept marriage proposals without a reason!”

“Oi!” He protested, “And you say _I’m_ rude!”

“Stop changing the subject!”

Silence fell over them again. An impasse. Everything was on the line now and Rose Tyler swore to herself right then and there that she would not be the woman who blinked first. She stared the Doctor down, eyes narrowed, jaw set in determination. Seconds ticked by, their breathing shallow. Rose felt a bead of sweat slowly crawling between her shoulder blades.

The Doctor blinked first.

He licked his lips, conceding defeat. “Because… well, because I love you, I suppose.”

Rose sat up, releasing his shoulders and plonking all her weight on his rib cage just because she could. He wheezed at the sudden shift in pressure. She gazed down at him, a smile tugging her lips upward as she replayed his confession in her head. “You _suppose_?”

She hadn’t yet clarified her question (or her answer, come to think of it) and his hearts were still in tatters. He hurried on, his voice breaking, “But, it’s okay… if you… if you didn’t mean it…”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” she instantly retorted, frowning down at him. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and said slowly, “I just… you caught me off guard… with… with your answer.”

Hope flared within him as he met her eyes properly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, nodding her head with a fond smile. “I didn’t think… well. Didn’t think you felt that way.”

“Rose,” the Doctor exhaled. “You had to know… that I… I… _fancied_ you, didn’t you?”

She laughed lightly, “Yeah, well, that’s a lot different than loving someone, innit?”

He blinked, as if he only just suddenly realized the miscommunication that had been happening for the last two years. “Oh.”

“Yeah… _oh_,” Rose couldn’t stop giggling now and the Doctor stared up at her, unable to stop the soft look in his eyes. Eventually, she quieted and gazed down at him with a gentle look of her own. “Would you… would you say it again?”

Now that they’d been freed, it seemed natural on his tongue. “Rose Tyler, I love you.”

Her grin could have lit up the whole of London and she gripped the lapels of his coat briefly. “Right,” she said, shimmying off of him and hopping to her feet. She grabbed his hand and pulled, “Up you get.”

The Doctor let her pull him to his feet, barely masking an _oof _of surprise when she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He returned her embrace with enthusiasm and tried desperately to ignore the niggling voice at the back of his mind that she’d never returned his words, or had given him a proper answer.

He swallowed thickly, “Rose-…”

Rose pressed her face into the crook of his neck, tightening her arms around him. “I’m thinkin’. Just… shut up a minute.”

His jaw shut with a sharp click.

After a long moment, Rose pulled back from him and took a deep breath as she plunged her hands into his coat pockets, rummaging through all the various bits and bobs he had shoved in his bigger-on-the-inside pockets.

“Rose? What are you doing?” She could almost hear the furrow between his brows.

“Ha!” She crowed, as her fingers closed around the item in question and she straightened, palming the item and hiding it from his gaze.

His arched eyebrow was the only expression on his face as she stepped back. Reaching out, she took his left hand in her right, lacing their fingers together as she looked up at him. She smiled gently as she swiped her thumb across his knuckles.

“Well, I don’t know how Time Lords do this, I only know how humans do it and since I messed it up the first time…” Rose was eager to make this moment right for them both, but as she looked into his eyes, she found that her words suddenly failed her. She gaped at him for an instant before he smiled slightly and squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, Rose.”

Drawing a deep breath, her voice was strong with conviction. “You… you told me once to forget you. But I couldn’t. I’ve loved you right from that moment, you know? You talked about feeling the turn of the Earth and you promised me the stars, but none of that matters. _You_ make it matter, Doctor. It’s not about where we go or what we see. _None_ of it compares to how I feel about you.”

The Doctor felt moisture gathering in his eyes again and when she noticed it, Rose decided she better get to the point. She grasped his left hand tightly, rotating it at the wrist and held his stare as she slid the small, silver ring on the forth finger of his hand. “I love you, Doctor. And I’d be honored to call you my husband. Or… you know. Whatever Time Lords call it. Would you… would you marry me?”

Absolutely uncaring about the tears tracking down his face—_blimey, he’d cried a lot today,_ he thought—he was unable to stop the smile from touching his lips. He looked down at their joined hands, admiring the gleam of the ring in the low firelight and said with a chuckle, “Rose… That’s… that’s a bio-damper.”

“Oi, listen here-…” She sassed with a grin, lacing their fingers and pulling him in.

The Doctor playfully rolled his eyes, “Not even married yet and you’re already nagging me.”

Rose laughed heartily, releasing his hands to loop her arms around his neck. Even standing on her tip-toes, she still couldn’t reach his lips. She played with the fine hair at the base of his skull as her laughter died down and she tried to act nonchalant, looking up at him from under her lashes. “So… is that a yes then?”

As he stared down at this woman, the love of his many lives, he wanted nothing more than to sass her back, to tease her until she smacked him because, really, she was so much fun to goad. But teasing is what started the whole incident in the first place. He decided he needed to be absolutely crystal clear. Wellll, clearer than crystal. Clear as glass? That was really a much better idiom-…

_Answer her!_ A voice in the back of his head yelled.

Not wasting another second, he raised his hands to cradle her face. “Rose Tyler…”

He ducked his head until their foreheads touched and Rose’s eyes slipped closed, her face turned up toward him trustingly. He brushed his thumb across the delicate apple of her cheek. “Yes.” The word was barely a whisper, breathed into her skin as his lips brushed hers. “My answer is absolutely yes.”

He wasn’t sure who moved first, but instantly their mouths were pressed in a searing kiss that conveyed everything that he still couldn’t say with all the words his great bloody gob possessed. Rose seemed to understand though. He always loved that about his Rose, she caught on so quickly.

_This wasn’t like the last time they kissed._ The thought strayed across his mind as her hands slid up his neck and into his hair, fisting her hands there as she kissed him back feverishly. _Nope, definitely not like last time._ The last time they’d shared a moment like this, it hadn’t been her, but a crazed flap of skin using Rose like a puppet.

This time, though… this time he knew who it was wholeheartedly and that made it so much better. One of his hands drifted down, his index finger slipping through the belt loop of her jeans to pull her hips sharply into his.

Rose responded by tugging on his hair and he groaned as the sensation shot through him, lighting up every single synapse like a Christmas tree. She opened her mouth under his and the wave of lust that came over him nearly swept him away. All he could do was hold on tightly. The hand on her hip flew north, pressing between her shoulder blades to keep her close. The other hand tangled in her hair, cupping the back of her head as he explored every inch; sweeping his tongue over teeth, along ridges and finally pulling away just enough to catch her bottom lip in his teeth.

The moan she let out nearly brought him to his knees and he let her lip go with a slight pop, looking down into her glazed eyes. She blinked in a hazy sort of way and he angled his head, pressing his lips to the thundering pulse he could see against her skin.

One hand still in his hair, Rose dragged the other down until she had a fistful of his lapel again. She asked, breathlessly, “Are you… is this too soon, you think?”

The Doctor nosed his way up her neck, dropping hot, open-mouthed kisses there. His head was spinning as he struggled to address her question. “Too soon?” He mumbled as he nipped at her ear lobe.

Rose sighed in a way that he decided he needed to hear at least once a day for the rest of their lives together. Her sigh turned into a yelp as his slightly-cooler fingers found the hem of her shirt, slipping underneath to caress the soft skin of her back. “Yes, Doctor! We just got engaged and we haven’t been on a date yet!”

This roused him from the spell of her skin and he pulled back to meet her eyes, his hair askew and his clothing rumpled. “Rose,” he stated plainly, “It’s been two years. How long do humans usually court before marriage?”

Her mouth opened and closed several times, eyes wide, “What? Two years?”

“Two years since we started dating,” the Doctor elaborated with raised eyebrows. 

“Bloody hell, we’ve been datin’ this whole time?” She cried, “Were you ever gonna… I dunno, _mention it?”_

“I thought you knew?”

Rose was gobsmacked and could only huff out a laugh, “_You thought I knew?_”

The Doctor gaped at her, “Didn’t you?”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve _said_ anything!” She retorted, red blossoming on her cheeks.

His voice was pitched higher, indignantly, “Oi! I have so!”

“When?!”

His eyes frantically searched the room for a moment as he thought. “Ha!” He yelled suddenly, pointing a finger at her in triumph. “New Earth! You said it yourself! You said our first date was chips after we watched the original Earth blow up!”

Rose stared at him with wide eyes until she couldn’t hold her laughter back any longer. She laughed until she had to brace her hands on her knees, “You bloody alien git!”

Grinning foolishly, he looped his arms around her waist as he watched her lose her composure, “Here we go again with the abuse! Not even engaged an hour and here comes the henpecking-…”

“Shut up, you idiot!” Tears were running down her face as she giggled, “I can’t believe we’ve been datin’ this whole time!”

“You told me yourself,” the Doctor reminded her with a smirk and a slight air of superiority, “Nobody to blame but you if you didn’t know.”

“You cheeky little shi-…!”

“Right then, you minx,” he growled, quickly sliding his arm down and under her knees, scooping her into a bridal hold in one, fast motion.

“Oi!” Rose shrieked with laughter as she looped her arms around his neck, “What’re you doin’?” 

He leered down at her, grinning wolfishly as he carried her toward the massive bed, where he dumped her unceremoniously in a heap, her laugh echoing in the cavern of their room. Rose struggled to a sitting position to find the Doctor eyeing her as he shucked off his long, brown coat.

“Well?” She asked with a smile.

His lips twisted into a look that could only be described as sinful as he prowled toward her, “Making up for lost time.”

“And what about the dance? Feast of honor and all that?” Rose questioned, eyes sparkling as he began to unbutton his shirt.

The Doctor reached out, wrapping a slim hand around her ankle and drawing her toward the edge of the bed. He tugged off her trainer, throwing it over his shoulder as he arched an eyebrow at her. “I think I have a different type of dancing in mind…”

“Is that so?” She challenged with a smirk as he tossed her second shoe across the room. “What sor’ of dancin’?”

He knelt on the bed astride her, returning her look with a suggestive one of his own. “Oh, you know the kind… Freud eluded to it, I believe. Something about bananas and train tunnels and the like.”

Rose grinned as she reaching for the remaining buttons on his Oxford, “Well, then… who am I to argue with my brilliant fiancé?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello reader!
> 
> If you've made it all the way down here to the end, thank you. This is my first published fanfic in over twelve years and I'm still trying to get back into the swing of writing and actually finishing something worthy enough to post. I'd love to hear any constructive feedback, comments or suggestions. 
> 
> Thanks again for making it this far! :)


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